


traced your fingers, drew my spine

by s_coups



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassins & Hitmen, Detectives, M/M, Mentions of Taeyong/Ten, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 21:36:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_coups/pseuds/s_coups
Summary: jaehyun works for the ministry of finance, taeyong kills people for a living, and in between long days they share even longer nights.





	traced your fingers, drew my spine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vernyx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vernyx/gifts).



> -title from the song DKLA by troye sivan  
> -taeyong and ten have a pretty prominent relationship in this fic but make no mistake! jaeyong is the main ship. i just wanted to clarify because i only tagged it as "mentions of" lol  
> -loosely based off the film 'the accountant'  
> -i have a playlist for this fic which you can find [here!](https://open.spotify.com/user/efirny/playlist/0euXEpaVECo2eXvEvsJf3f)  
> (written for trickar!)

When Taeyong was little, his mother had called a special doctor to their home to observe him. He thinks she was having him tested for some sort of mental illness, but nothing came from it, and instead the doctor watched him finish six one thousand piece puzzles, and complete a ninth grade level booklet of mathematics. The observation lasted about three hours, and by the end of it, Taeyong was quite bored, and the doctor looked absolutely stunned.

He remembers the hushed whispers as the doctor was leaving, telling his mother he’d _“never seen anything like it”_ and Taeyong was _“one of the most brilliant children I’ve ever met”._ There was other stuff to, like what he does in his free time, how he acts in social situations, etc, but everything was normal. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him, and as he sat down to complete yet another puzzle, he heard his mother thanking the doctor quietly and ushering him out the door, the man saying something of “ _tests_ ” and “ _experiments_ ”.

Taeyong could still do those puzzles and booklets, has probably done more than any person in their lifetime, has probably done more mathematical equations than most university professors and could recite the entire multiplication table up to five hundred from memory.

Sometimes, on nights like this, when he’s in Hong Kong or Bangkok or Stockholm, with blood that was still warm on his clothes and a stranger looking down the barrel of his gun, he wonders what he would’ve become if his mother had agreed to that doctor’s tests. Would he still be here, in this dreary hotel room of a conman, or an ex mafia member, or a drug dealer, carrying out the orders of higher ups? Would he have killed as many people as he has? Would he know how to work over sixty seven different types of military style weapons and know the exact shampoo brand to get caked on blood out of his hair?

He reasons that yes, he probably would. He’s always had in interest in things he didn’t understand, and sooner or later, tests or not, he would’ve found himself learning these things solely because he got bored easily. He needed to pick up new things as time passed.

These thoughts are always short and fleeting, disappearing as quickly as they came when the stranger beneath his gun gave a sob, or tried their hand at begging for their life. Begging never really worked with Taeyong, as he never felt guilt for anything he’d done (another thing that had had his mother thinking he suffered from a mental illness), but he always thought it was amusing when his victims tried.

He doesn’t even remember the man's name, and halfway through the man's pleading he pulls the trigger only to get him to shut up, because he didn’t really care about his wife or kids or cat or whatever he was listing off.

The silencer on his gun smokes slightly, and he curses under his breath, carefully unscrewing it out of place with his gloved hands to blow on it gently. He hears a thump downstairs, floorboards creaking and voices whispering. He glances down at the man’s body and sighs, pulling his jacket hood up over his head.

He begins screwing the silencer back on. He notices a bit of blood dripping down the barrell, and wipes the gun on his stomach, hoping that was sufficient enough until he could get home and clean it.

 

A pile of manila folders is slapped down onto Jaehyun’s desk, almost knocking the coffee to his right all over his computer. He glares at the perpetrator above him, Doyoung, who’s looking down at him with a shit eating smirk that could only mean bad things.

“What?” Jaehyun snaps, carefully moving his coffee to an area of his desk where the elder couldn’t sabotage it. “What’s that?”

Doyoung smiles. “Jaehyun, you know I love you.”

Jaehyun turns back to his computer, resuming typing up the report he had been working on before being interrupted. “I’m not doing it.

Doyoung lets out a huff. “You don’t even know what I’m gonna say!” He pouts.

“I don’t need to know, because I’m not doing it.”

Doyoung sighs, dropping down to a crouch so he was near eye-level with the younger. “I got this case-”

“I said I’m not doing it.”

“-from Taeil, and he said if I don’t find this guy by the end of the month he’s gonna stick me downstairs with the archivers,” Doyoung thrusts himself in front of the laptop to make puppy eyes at Jaehyun. “Please, Jaehyun, that kid Minhyung works in archives and he’s sooo weird, I don’t wanna do filing with him all day long.”

Jaehyun gently pushes his head out of the way. “Minhyung is a nice kid, don’t be a dick.”

Doyoung stomps his foot, not unlike a child. “I’m a nice kid, too! Why won’t you help me?”

Jaehyun groans, rubbing his temples with his palms and glancing at the clock. He still had two hours left before he could leave, and Doyoung wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

“If I help you with this, will you leave me the fuck alone for the rest of the year?” He grumbles, and he can practically feel Doyoung’s spirits lift beside him.

“You’re the best!” He accentuates his words by slapping the original pile of folders into Jaehyun’s lap, making the younger jump in surprise. “This is all the information we have so far. Let me go get my laptop, and I’ll show you the rest.”

Jaehyun looks down at the folders in his lap, than glances forlornly at the unfinished report on his laptop. It’ll just have to wait, he supposes.

Doyoung settles into the seat beside him moments later, laptop in hand, a large mug of coffee that reads '#1 Employee' in the other. Jaehyun snorts when he sees it, but Doyoung ignores him.

"Okay," Doyoung begins. He opens up one of the folders in Jaehyun's lap and removes a series of photographs, handing them to the younger. "What do you see here?"

Jaehyun sighs, glancing at the first photograph in the pile. "Uh, Iranian weapons dealer the NSI caught in 2014."

Doyoung nods. "Right. Look closer."

Jaehyun pulls the glasses resting on top of his head down so he can see better, squinting at the photo. "I see three other dealers they also caught last year."

Doyoung hums and lifts the photo to reveal the next. "Look at them all, and look closely."

Jaehyun skims through the photos. Most of them are of weapons dealers or drug cartel members, mafia leaders that were on the NSI’s top most wanted list. Many of them had already been caught.

But then he notices something. A tall, lithe figure in all of the photographs, most of the time with his back turned to the camera. None of the photos reveal his face, other than a bit of his chin or the tip of his nose as he turns to speak with the wanted men. And yet, he's in every single photograph, every single time.

"Who is that?" Jaehyun mutters, half to himself, and he jumps when Doyoung claps him on the back excitedly.

"Exactly, who is that man?" Doyoung repeats. He opens up his own laptop and types something in, pulling up the human resource database. He digs through the folders in Jaehyun's lap until he can find another stack of papers, flipping through them for Jaehyun. "Look at this. All of the questioning from these men and they all answered the same thing when asked about him. 'Their accountant'."

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "An accountant who works for all of these men? For weapons dealers and dictators?"

Doyoung nods quickly. "Right? It's weird! And when we looked further into it, we couldn't find anything. Not a record, not a paper trail, nothing. This man literally doesn't exist. We have nothing on him."

"So, you're asking me to help you find a ghost, is what you're saying?" Jaehyun deadpans, and Doyoung pouts at him.

"Don't be like that. Think of it as a challenge."

"A challenge would be finding a man when we only have a picture of his face. This is near-impossible."

Doyoung groans, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I know. I fucking know. But Taeil is on my ass about this guy, and if I don't find him I'm fucked."

Jaehyun rubs his forehead as he skims through the photos again. "I mean, it's not impossible. I can work with _near_ -impossible," He moves the pile of folders onto his desktop and pulls Doyoung's laptop closer. "Do you have names and dates for all these photographs?"

Doyoung nods, looking defeated, and scoots his chair closer to show the elder.

 

"Good morning, dreamboat," Ten coos when Taeyong slides into the seat across from him. There's an espresso in front of him, and he downs it in one go, grimacing at the bitter taste.

Ten grins at the elder, holding his own coffee tenderly in his hands. "How was Rio?"

Taeyong shrugs. "You know. Hot and overcrowded."

Ten snorts, taking a sip of his coffee. He puts it down a second later, pushing it towards Taeyong, who accepts it without question and downs it like the first in one go.

"How was Auckland?" Taeyong asks, more out of politeness than anything else.

"You know. Hot and overcrowded," Ten replies cooly. Taeyong rolls his eyes, foregoing a response for picking up the newspaper lying beside Ten on the table. He flips through it, frowning at the headlines. Checking to make sure there was nothing about that man he'd killed a month ago in Itaewon.

"There's nothing, I checked," Ten tells him, stretching his arms above his head with feline grace. Two tables away, a few girls whisper among themselves, openly eyeing the way the younger's shirt rides up his stomach when he moves.

Without looking away from the paper, Taeyong reaches across the table, holding his palm upwards for Ten to take. Ten takes it without a word, placing his own palm in the elder's and letting Taeyong rub his thumb along the top of his hand. The girls look visibly disappointed, and return to talking among themselves.

"Don't be jealous, dreamboat," Ten murmurs, smiling at him. "I can't be tied down, you know that."

Taeyong lets out a noise somewhere between a cough and a snort, folding the newspaper with his free hand and setting it back down on the table. "And yet, you meet me anytime I call."

Ten flips their hands so Taeyong's rests on top, and tightens his grip. "There are exceptions."

Taeyong lets the younger trace his fingers over his palm, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling and the peaceful quiet of the cafe around them, a luxury he couldn't always afford.

"Where are you going next?" Ten asks, and Taeyong doesn't bother opening his eyes when he replies, "Lisbon."

Ten hums in response. He flips Taeyong's arm over again and inspects his wrist. "You're so pale. Were you really in Rio?"

Taeyong chuckles and opens one eye. "No. Were you really in Auckland?"

Ten smirks, pulling his hand away. "No."

 

Over four hours past quitting time, Jaehyun finds himself still seated at his desk, empty paper cups off coffee littering his desk, the files and papers Doyoung had provided him spread messily over everything.

Doyoung is dozing off, feet kicked up on his own desk, one of the folders open over his face. He snores a little, the only sound left in the otherwise empty office, save for the ticking of the clock. Each second it just reminds Jaehyun that he’d rather be home, showered, and in bed by now. But this case got more complicated the more he looked into it, and his innate curiosity to find out who exactly this mystery accountant was got the best of him.

Jaehyun rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, sighing in frustration to himself. He needed a fucking drink.

He kicks the bottom of Doyoung’s chair, startling the younger awake with a, “Where’s the fire?!” while Jaehyun stretches his arms over his head.

“We can finish this tomorrow,” Jaehyun tells him. “I wanna go home.”

Doyoung nods sheepishly, placing the folder he was sleeping under back on Jaehyun’s desk. They collect their things in silence, and Jaehyun barely nods in response to Doyoung’s parting words when they finally step outside the office and go their separate ways.

It’s dark out, the sky clear and glittering with stars, the moon shining too brightly for Jaehyun’s liking. The city air is thick on his tongue, and a drunk couple stumble by on the opposite sidewalk, reminding him that he desperately needs a drink.

He slips into a bar about halfway between work and his apartment, thankful it wasn’t too busy but was still full enough that the chatter was a pleasant background noise as he orders a beer and settles into a stool at the bar.

There were two bartenders working, one male who was wiping down the counters with a pinched look on his face and one female who was flirting with a group of drunk girls on the opposite end of where Jaehyun was sitting. He scans the room, looking over each person carefully; he wasn’t actually looking for anything or anyone, just staring out of habit.

At a table across the room from him, two men sit, arguing with each other. Or, one of them was arguing, and the other was simply listening, face blank. The one speaking angrily looked young, barely twenty, while the other one looked to be about Jaehyun’s age. Jaehyun watches the older man take a sip of his drink, nodding in agreement despite the fact the younger’s anger seemed to be directed at him.

Finally, the younger one slaps his hands on the table, getting to his feet. The table scuffs the floor and makes a loud noise, but the bar is busy enough that nobody bothers them anything other than a surprised glance. Jaehyun watches the younger snap something that seemed to be a curse at the elder before storming out of the bar.

Jaehyun watches with raised brows as the older man stays sitting at the empty table, finishing his drink calmly. Than he gets up and starts heading towards the bar.

Jaehyun looks away quickly, a sudden rush of adrenaline spiking through him as the man gets closer and closer. When he’s just a few feet away from Jaehyun, the man raises his hand to get bartender's attention. As he waits, he taps his fingers gently on the counter, following an invisible beat, before abruptly turning to look at Jaehyun.

Their gazes lock, and Jaehyun feels like a trapped animal, caught in the act of staring. He blanks for a second, lost in the other man’s eyes, and there’s a heavy tension between them until Jaehyun can finally find his voice again.

“Are you okay?” He manages to croak out in a very un-manly voice.

The man smirks at him, lips curling at the corners. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I, uh, saw your friend yell at you and leave. It looked like a pretty intense argument.”

The man laughs, shrugging as the bartender approaches him. “Gin and tonic,” He says to the bartender, and Jaehyun makes a face. If the man notices it, he doesn’t say anything until the bartender hands him his new drink and leaves.

“He’s always like that,” He replies, and it takes Jaehyun a moment to realize he was talking about his friend. “He’ll get over it by tomorrow and come back like nothing happened.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Jaehyun blurts out. His face turns a flushed pink color when the man raises an eyebrow at him. “I mean, uh… it just looked like you two were close.”

The man pauses for a second, taking a sip of his drink and eyeing Jaehyun with what could only be consideration, before saying, “He’s not my boyfriend. Just a friend.”

Jaehyun can’t help the dumb smile that breaks out on his face. “That’s good.”

The man smiles again, eyebrow cocking again. “It is? Why?”

“Because that means I’m not flirting with you for no reason.”

“Is this what you call flirting?”

Jaehyun sputters, offended, but the man just laughs, and holds out his hand. “I’m Taeyong.”

“Jaehyun,” He says, accepting his handshake. Taeyong smiles at him, and Jaehyun is really glad Doyoung made him stay so late or he probably wouldn’t have met this guy.

 

Jaehyun has to fumble with the keys three times before he can just get them out of his pocket, and getting them into his front doors lock is a whole other issue. He can’t focus with the way Taeyong presses up against him from behind, breath fanning out just below the younger’s ear, pressing the lightest of kisses along his neck.

“Alright there?” Taeyong murmurs against the crest of his ear when he fumbles with the doorknob twice in a row. Jaehyun just nods nervously, acutely aware of Taeyong’s hands curling around his hips, one of his thumbs hooking on Jaehyun’s belt.

When he finally gets the door open, he stumbles through it, Taeyong gracefully keeping him on his feet with an arm around his waist. Jaehyun feels along the wall for the light switch, distracted by how soft Taeyong's lips are against his cheek, but Taeyong pulls him away before he can turn them on. He finally kisses Jaehyun on the lips for the first time, and Jaehyun melts in his arms, letting the older man navigate them through the dark, only losing balance once when they trip on the living room carpet.

Taeyong turns them so that it's his knees that hit the edge of the bed, so that he's the one that falls onto his back. Jaehyun cages him in with hands on either sides of his shoulders, still greedily kissing him like they didn't have all the time in the world. Taeyong laughs, breathless and shaky between their mouths, and tugs at Jaehyun's shirt.

Jaehyun breaks apart from him to pull his own shirt off, feeling only a bit self conscious until the elder slides his hands over his stomach, sighing dreamily.

"Do you have a condom, baby?" Taeyong asks, voice deeper than earlier. Jaehyun's stomach flips at the way he calls him 'baby', and he nods, scrambling off the bed to go retrieve them from the dresser. When he turns back, Taeyong's taken off his shirt, and is peeling off his skin tight pants, revealing long, smooth legs.

Jaehyun feels his dick twitch in his pants, and he struggles to pull his own off while walking back to the bed, and instead ends up planting face first on the floor. When he looks up, Taeyong is looking at him, amused.

"Pretend you didn't see that," Jaehyun says, kicking his pants off and getting to his feet. He throws the lube and condoms onto the bed, trying to play off his embarrassment.

"Saw what?" Taeyong smirks, opening his arms as a gesture for Jaehyun to join him. He grins back at him, crawling over him again and leaning down to kiss him.

Boldly, Jaehyun slides a hand over the older man's underwear, cupping him through it. The noise Taeyong lets out is more like a gasp, hiccuping over his own breath and squirming beneath him. Jaehyun tries not to smile wider, moving to kiss along Taeyong's neck, this time with the intent of leaving marks. Taeyong must like that, because he threads his fingers in the younger's hair, breath hitching every time Jaehyun sucks on his skin to leave tiny hickeys along his otherwise perfect, pale skin.

"Hurry," Taeyong breathes against the crown of his head as Jaehyun moves further down his chest. Jaehyun nods against him, skimming his teeth over a nipple, dragging the tip of his tongue along his happy trail. He curls his fingers around Taeyong’s boxers when he reaches them, hands clumsy as he pulls them off and tosses them over his shoulder.

Taeyong's cock springs up against his lower belly, and from this angle, between the older man's thighs while he stares down at Jaehyun through half-lidded eyes, Jaehyun thinks he might be in love for a split second.

Jaehyun mouths against the head of his cock the same time Taeyong intertwines one of their hands, squeezing hard. Jaehyun keeps his mouth occupied, sucking along his length without ever actually swallowing him down. Taeyong's hips jerk a little when Jaehyun accidentally scrapes his teeth against him while using his free hand to try and find the lube he'd thrown on the bed.

"Sorry," Jaehyun mumbles, pressing a soft kiss in apology to the dip between Taeyong's hip bone and thigh. Taeyong hums, tensing just the slightest when he hears Jaehyun uncap the bottle and squirt a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. When he prods against the older man’s entrance, he can hear Taeyong swallow, his legs shifting open even more to accommodate Jaehyun’s weight.

The first finger slides in with ease, and Jaehyun sits back on his ankles to watch. Taeyong’s face twists slightly from the intrusion, mouth pressed together in a thin line. He fists his hands in the sheets when Jaehyun starts fucking it into him, the furrow in his brow smoothing out as he lets out the first outright moan of the night.

When Jaehyun adds a second finger, Taeyong reaches out his hand like a child, making grabbing motions towards the younger. Jaehyun’s brain is slow to process what he wants, too preoccupied with the way his fingers sink into the older man so easily.

“Hold my hand,” Taeyong whispers, offering his hand palm up towards him. Jaehyun nods, moving his free hand from Taeyong’s hip to intertwine their fingers.

The apartment is almost eerily quiet save for Jaehyun’s breathing and Taeyong’s tiny whimpers. Jaehyun adds a third finger, watches the hairs on Taeyong’s arms stand up and the way he throws his head back, baring his neck for the younger. Outside, it seems as though the city has stopped- no cars racing by, no lights flashing through the curtains. Quiet.

Taeyong tugs on his hand to come back up from between his legs. Jaehyun lets himself be pulled, meeting Taeyong’s lips halfway, hand still fucking in and out of the elder. Taeyong sighs against his mouth, murmurs, “Hurry up.”

Jaehyun nods again, his voice failing him for once in his life. He pulls his fingers out with a loud squelching noise, using the remaining lube on his hand to lube up his own cock. He hisses through his teeth at it, having forgot to touch himself completely this entire time. Taeyong bites his lip, nails scratching lightly over Jaehyun’s shoulder blades.

While Jaehyun lines himself up, Taeyong is watching him with those half lidded eyes, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, lips red and bitten. Jaehyun feels a rush of unwarranted affection, surging down to kiss Taeyong again the same time he pistons his hips forward and fucks into him.

Taeyong gasps into his mouth, a moan catching in his throat. They’re still for a few minutes as Jaehyun sinks deeper into him, slowly. Like they have all the time in the world.

When he bottoms out, Taeyong lets out a low groan, throwing his head back again. Jaehyun takes it as an invitation to continue his previous work of marking up the elder’s neck. He mouths along Taeyong’s pulse point the same time he pulls out only to fuck back into him.

Taeyong starts up a series of whimpers to match Jaehyun’s thrusting as he builds a steady, rhythmic pace. It’s not as fast as Jaehyun’s used to, and it feels deeper than usual, like if he thinks about it too much and kisses him for too long, he’ll melt into Taeyong.

Taeyong claws at his back, whimpers cut by gasps and little words of encouragement, things like _“Baby”_ and _“Fuck”_ and _“You fuck me so well.”_ Jaehyun feels a swell of pride deep in his chest when he takes in all the marks he’s left on Taeyong’s pale skin, the way the elder tightens around him and whines low in his throat when Jaehyun hits him just right.

After a few minutes, Taeyong mouths along the spot just below Jaehyun’s ear, whispering something that sounds like “ _I’m close_ ,” but could be anything from how breathy it comes out. Jaehyun takes it as incentive to go faster, harder. He takes Taeyong’s cock in his hand, jerking him off in time with his own thrusts. Taeyong scratches at his back, scrambling to keep up, pain cutting through the pleasure like a vice but doing nothing to deter him from the task at hand.

Taeyong comes with a loud whine, gasping out Jaehyun’s name like a prayer as he comes all over his own stomach. He tightens around Jaehyun, and it takes everything in the younger’s willpower not to come inside him, instead pulling out so he can start jerking himself off over the older man’s chest.

Taeyong doesn’t seem bothered by it, too winded from his own orgasm. He lays still, staring up at Jaehyun with glassy, blown out eyes, mouth slightly open as he catches his breath. The sight in itself pushes Jaehyun over the edge, and he comes on Taeyong’s chest, biting his tongue to keep from shouting.

He collapses onto his side beside him a second later, body pulsing almost painfully from the aftershocks of his climax. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to steady his breathing. He feels Taeyong’s fingers run through his hair, pushing it out of his face. When he opens his eyes again, Taeyong is watching him with a soft look, a smile curling the edges of his lips.

“I forgot to put the condom on,” Jaehyun says, voice rough.

Taeyong smiles. “I know. I didn’t mind. Though that was very polite of you not to come inside.”

Jaehyun grins stupidly back at him, flopping over onto his back. He rolls his neck, sighing when it cracks loudly. When he glances at Taeyong, his heart leaps in his throat when he finds the older man running his fingers through the come on his chest, rubbing it against his skin.

He meets Jaehyun’s eyes but doesn’t say anything, continuing his ministrations with a wicked look in his eyes like he knew how much it was affecting the younger. Jaehyun lets out a heavy sigh, turning his gaze to the ceiling.

“You’re going to be the death of me and my dick,” Jaehyun announces. Taeyong just laughs, intertwining their fingers once more between them.

 

When Jaehyun wakes up in the morning, Taeyong is nowhere in sight. There’s a post-it stuck to his lampshade with a kiss stain on it, and the other man’s signature. Jaehyun pulls it off and stares at it, wondering what it means, and also where he got such a bright shade of red lipstick from.

When he finally gets to work, Doyoung badgers him for over an hour about the hickeys littering his neck that he couldn’t cover with his collar. He tells him they’re from a girl who lives in his building, something like jealousy and possessiveness twisting in his chest at the thought of telling the elder about Taeyong.

 

Taeyong doesn’t see Ten again until they meet in Yekaterinburg a week later. The bruises on his hip bones have almost faded completely, a splotchy yellow and blue color. Taeyong wakes up mid afternoon to fingers pressing into the bruises, and he hisses under his breath, still half asleep. He knows it’s the younger before opening his eyes because of his cologne, and he pushes his hand away while still pulling him close, so they’re chest to chest.

“What happened here?” Ten asks quietly. The walls are thin, and in the room next door Taeyong can hear a child whining to their mother in Russian. Outside the window, he can hear cars ambling by slowly, and the street market in full boom.

Taeyong rubs his eyes so that spots appear behind his eyelids. “Some kid I met at a bar.”

Ten hums in response, fingers running feather-light touches over the elder’s ribs. Taeyong shivers. He takes a deep breath, face buried just behind Ten’s ear, and the younger’s cologne is much stronger here. It’s comforting.

They lay in silence for awhile, Ten tracing patterns along Taeyong’s skin while the other drifts in and out of consciousness. He’s awakened again with a jolt when Ten’s phone vibrates heavily against his chest. Ten doesn’t seem bothered by it, still drawing circles along Taeyong’s jawline with his index finger as he pulls it out and answers.

“Hmm?” Is all he says as a greeting. Taeyong can hear the warbled sound of someone talking very fast from the other end, but he was too sleepy to try to decipher exactly what they were saying. Taeyong can tell when something bothers Ten because his hand suddenly stops on the elder’s neck, curling just the slightest as though he were about to choke him. If Ten notices the way his breath hitches faintly, he doesn’t mention it.

“I thought he was in Bogotá?” The younger murmurs, voice calm and composed despite the furrow in his brow. He meets Taeyong’s gaze, holding eye contact as he continues. “Well, then his partner was in Cape Town when he got shot.”  
Taeyong raises one of his brows. The last person they knew who had been in Cape Town was Johnny.

“Mhm. Okay. I’ll be there soon,” Ten hangs up without another word, the burner phone clacking shut with a noise too loud for the quiet room. He rolls away from Taeyong, pulling his hand off his neck and leaving Taeyong feeling empty.

“Jeno’s dead,” Ten announces to the ceiling after a beat of silence.

Taeyong’s heart skips a beat, but he keeps his face neutral. Jeno was young- just a kid. He was Johnny’s partner, too, which makes sense when Ten mentioned Cape Town.

“Who got him?” Taeyong asks, more out of politeness, because he can see the way the younger’s eyes are glassing over. Ten had always had a difficult time dealing with the death of their friends.

“Uh, one of the cartels,” His Adam’s apple bobs as he tries to swallow down his tears. Taeyong looks up at the ceiling, pitying him. He wishes he would just understand already this was common practice, and people were going to die a lot. He’d been doing this kind of work long enough already.

“Apparently his assignment was a second in command, but he went after the kingpin instead,” Ten continues. He sniffles slightly, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “I have to go to Colombia and clean up his mess.”

Taeyong sits up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Make sure you get rid of his body the proper way this time.”

Ten doesn’t respond, and when Taeyong glances at him he’s staring at the elder with a look of abject horror.

“Are you serious?” Ten whispers, voice shaking. “Do you really feel nothing?”

Taeyong closes his eyes and sighs. “Don’t do this, Ten.”

The younger sits up quickly, face flushing an angry red. “Why are you fucking dead inside? Jeno was just a _kid_. He looked up to you.”

“Clearly not enough, because he went and did something stupid and got himself killed,” Taeyong quirks. He regrets saying it the minute the words leave his mouth, and he definitely deserves it when Ten back hand slaps him across the face a second later.

Taeyong shifts his jaw, rubbing his cheek. He tastes the distinct copper flavor of blood on his tongue. When he looks up at Ten, the younger is scrambling out of the bed, searching for his shoes.

Taeyong doesn’t bother trying to stop him, or even saying goodbye when he finally storms out of the room without another word. The slam of the door is loud and echoes against the walls. In the room next door, the same child from before starts crying.

 

They cross paths again completely by coincidence. Jaehyun is sitting in the waiting room of the emergency room. Doyoung had gotten in the middle of a shootout by accidentally being in the wrong place at the wrong time (why on earth these things happened to him, when they worked for the most harmless government agency around, was beyond him), and gotten grazed on the shoulder by a bullet. It hadn’t even penetrated him, but Doyoung was overdramatic, and demanded Jaehyun take him to the hospital the second Jaehyun picked up his phone.

It’s probably around three am, the waiting room mostly empty save for a father with his daughter in the corner, and a woman cradling her hand wrapped in gauze a few seats over. Jaehyun stares blankly at the television, quietly playing the news from earlier on repeat.

“It’s a beautiful painting, isn’t it?” Someone says, sitting down beside him. Jaehyun has to blink a few times to recognize it’s Taeyong, the too-bright florescent lights fucking with his eyes.

“What?” Jaehyun replies dumbly, and Taeyong smiles at him, nodding towards the television.

“The painting,” He repeats. Jaehyun looks back at it and sees it’s reporting of a stolen painting from an art museum in Paris. After a few seconds, Jaehyun recognizes it.

“Isn’t that a painting of Dante?” He asks. Taeyong leans back in his chair and hums in affirmation.

“Yeah. ‘Dante and Virgil’ by William-Adolphe Bouguereau.”

“That’s one of his most famous works.”

Taeyong cocks an eyebrow. “Do you like his pieces?”

“Some of them,” Jaehyun shrugs. “I just appreciate old art. There’s something beautiful about them. They’re so realistic, and they can really move you to tears.”

There’s a beat of silence, and suddenly he frowns, turning to the elder. “Wait a second. What are you doing here?”

Taeyong doesn’t look at him, still watching the news. “I had to give a friend of mine a ride here. He fucked up his hand at work.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably in his chair, trying to act casual. “Is it the same friend from before?”

“Hmm?” Taeyong tears his eyes from the television to turn them on the younger. After a second, he seems to understand. “Oh, yeah, it is.”

“Cool.”

They’re both quiet, the clock on the wall ticking louder than usual and making Jaehyun’s head ache. The nurse behind the counter is typing away rapidly, her long fingernails clicking on the keyboard. Taeyong slumps back into his seat, sinking down into it, and rests his hand on Jaehyun’s forearm, cool and comforting.

“How’s your dick?” Taeyong suddenly asks, and Jaehyun almost chokes on his own saliva. Taeyong looks amused, smirking at him from a few inches down in his seat.

“Lonely,” Jaehyun responds, glancing around the room out of habit to see if anyone was watching. They’re alone, the woman in the corner gone, and the father asleep with the child in his lap.

“Yeah?” Taeyong hums, and Jaehyun nods. Abruptly, Taeyong sits up, turning to him. “What are you doing here, though?”

Jaehyun is about to respond when the double doors leading into the emergency rooms swings open, and Doyoung comes out. His shirt sleeve is rolled up to his shoulder, and he’s got gauze wrapped around his bicep, the tiniest bit of blood seeping through where the bullet had grazed him. The nurse leading him lets him collapse into the chair beside Jaehyun, handing him a clipboard of paperwork to fill out and heading over to the counter.

Jaehyun gives Taeyong a look as if to say _there’s your answer,_ and pats Doyoung on the back. The elder winces dramatically, letting out a sigh.

“How you doing, buddy?” Jaehyun asks. Doyoung scribbles on the paperwork, face twisted into a grumpy, child-like expression as he writes.

“It stings,” He complains, and it’s just bordering on sounding like a whine. Beside them, Taeyong snorts loudly.

Doyoung whips around to stare at the man, surprised. “Who’s this?” He asks, eyes flickering to where Taeyong’s hand rests on Jaehyun’s forearm casually.

Jaehyun clears his throat. “Doyoung, this is Taeyong. He’s a-” He hesitates over the word, meeting Taeyong’s gaze for a split second as he continues. “-friend of mine. We met at the bar.”

Doyoung gives Taeyong a suspicious look. Taeyong stares back at him with his sharp eyes, looking bored.

“Taeyong, this is Doyoung,” Jaehyun introduces, trying hastily to fill the silence. “He’s my co-worker.”

Taeyong hums, eyeing Doyoung’s wrapped arm. “How’d you hurt yourself?”

“I got shot on the job,” Doyoung says, almost defensively, with just a bit of pride in his voice. Jaehyun rolls his eyes. Taeyong raises a brow.

“What kind of job do you do that you got shot?” He asks, turning his gaze on Jaehyun.

“We work for the Ministry of Strategy and Finance. Dumbass here just happened to be investigating a case at the wrong time and got caught in the middle.”

Doyoung glares at him. “You’re the dumbass,” He grumbles under his breath. Taeyong laughs, much to Doyoung’s chagrin.

“What does your friend do that he hurt his hand?” Jaehyun asks. He’s starting to realize the more they talk that he barely knows anything about Taeyong or his life.

“Oh, you know,” Taeyong drops his gaze, tracing his finger in circles along the top of Jaehyun’s hand. “Carpentry.”

As he speaks, the double doors swing open again, and someone else walks out. It’s the same boy Jaehyun had seen Taeyong with that first night they met, the one who’d yelled at him in the bar and stormed off. His shirt is absolutely _drenched_ in blood, face smeared with it. There’s even some in his hair, hard and stiff. He’s got a few bandages on his face and a cast on his arm, and despite his extreme looking state, he strides over to where they’re sitting, looking calm and composed. He sits himself directly in Taeyong’s lap, and Taeyong pulls his hand away from Jaehyun’s to wrap his arms around the boy’s waist.

Doyoung coughs awkwardly, and Jaehyun just stares, something like jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach that he tries desperately to ignore. The nurse flushes at how comfortably the boy spreads in Taeyong’s lap, and hands him a clipboard as well, rushing away from them with a red face.

The boy starts writing on the form, Taeyong hooking his chin on his shoulder and watching. They look so in sync, so comfortable with one another. The jealousy boils over inside him, and Jaehyun clears his throat loudly.

The boy looks up, seemingly surprised there were other people here. Taeyong gives Jaehyun a look the younger can’t read.

“Oh, hello,” The boy says, his words lilting with just the hint of an accent. “Who are you?”

Taeyong snorts, pressing his face into the boys back to hide the noise. Jaehyun presses his lips together, trying not to let his voice sound hard as he replies, “Jaehyun. I’m a friend of Taeyong.”

“I’m Ten,” The boy greets him cheerily. He cranes his neck to look at Taeyong beneath him. “Did you call him here?”

Taeyong shakes his head. “His friend got shot,” He explains, nodding towards Doyoung, who was tugging at the gauze on his arm, watching them with a surly expression.

“Oh,” Ten says. Worry floods his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Doyoung looks surprised at the question. “Yeah, it just grazed me. Are _you_ okay?”

Ten looks confused for a second, before glancing down at his blood soaked shirt. He laughs. “It’s fine, I’ve had worse.”

“Taeyong said you work in carpentry,” Jaehyun says, a little suspiciously. “How did you hurt yourself?”

Ten looks at Taeyong, who flashes him a grin, winking. “Carpentry?”

“He sliced his hand using a circular saw,” Taeyong supplies. He pats Ten’s chest, and the shirt makes a gross slapping sound from all the blood. “Almost cut the whole thing off.”

Ten nods slowly. “Yeah. Clumsy me.”

“Why do you have a cast for it, then?” Doyoung asks, and Jaehyun can tell by the way he voices it that he’s suspicious as well.

Ten looks at Taeyong for an answer. The elder shrugs at him. Ten turns back to them and shrugs as well. “Don’t worry about it.”

Doyoung gives him an affronted look, meeting Jaehyun’s gaze. He knows he looks just as confused as the elder.

One of the nurses approaches them again, eyes flickering to Ten and Taeyong before looking away hurriedly.

“Did you finish your paperwork, sweetheart?” She asks Doyoung, smiling.

Doyoung gives her his best charming smile, handing the clipboard back to her. “Of course.”

The nurse flushes, and almost jumps a foot in the air when Ten stands fluidly and shoves his clipboard into her hands as well. “I finished mine, too, _sweetheart_.”

The nurse gives him a small smile, nervously glancing at Doyoung and Jaehyun as though they would help her out of the situation. Doyoung gives her a sympathetic look, and Jaehyun is too preoccupied with the way Taeyong still holds Ten’s waist despite him standing up.

“Thank you,” The nurse says quietly. “You’re both free to go if you wish.” She accepts the clipboard from Ten and scurries away.

Ten stretches his arms above his head. His shirt slides up his skin, the blood making it sticky, and Jaehyun can see the way it stains his stomach red as it rubs against him. Taeyong lets go of his waist and stands as well, wiping his hands on his pants.

“It was nice meeting you,” Ten says to them, smiling. Jaehyun tries to smile back, his lips twitching. Doyoung just scowls. “We should go, dreamboat.”

Jaehyun’s heart drops into his stomach at the nickname, and even moreso when Taeyong’s eyes soften and he takes Ten’s hand in his. He turns to look at Jaehyun, face unreadable.

“I’ll see you soon, hopefully,” He says. His smile matches Ten’s friendly one, but Jaehyun can’t smile back, voice lost. Taeyong doesn’t seem bothered by it. Both men turn on their heels and stroll out of the hospital, disappearing into the night.

Beside him, Doyoung gives him a weird look. “You met him at a _bar_?”

Jaehyun nods, still staring out the sliding glass doors where they’d left from.

 

“Someone is looking into you.”

Taeyong turns from where he’s been staring at the cathedral, not surprised at all to find Johnny beside him, staring up at it as well. Taeyong smiles, half to himself, and turns his gaze back to the church.

“Someone’s always looking into me,” He replies. The air was warm and smelled like pastries from a bakery nearby. Tourists chatted around them, heading into the cathedral with cameras poised and eyes sparkling.

Taeyong has seen this church many times. There were always people in France who needed dealing with, and almost eighty percent of the time they tried to flee to Strasbourg. Taeyong doesn’t understand why they’re all so predictable and try to hide in the same place- didn’t they learn from the last? -but he can never rationalize why. Ten had once suggested it was because of the cathedral, claiming there was an old legend that an angel had been captured and locked away underneath it, and therefore people believed the city was protected by God himself. Taeyong doesn’t know if that’s why they do it, but he knows for sure he doesn’t believe in a God.

“No, I mean the government,” Johnny says. He pulls out a cigarette pack from his pocket, sliding one out and between his lips. After patting around and locating his lighter, he lights it up before speaking again. “They got pictures of you. They think you’re an accountant.”

Taeyong almost snorts. “A what?”

“An accountant,” Johnny repeats. He takes a deep drag, tilting his head all the way back to face the sky to exhale. Even at that bizarre angle, it was still possible to look at the cathedral at it’s full height. “They think you’re doing all the money laundering and crunching numbers for your targets.”

Taeyong turns this over in his mind for a moment. It wasn’t so bad if they thought he was just an accountant, as long as they didn’t know what he was really doing. As long as they didn’t know his name.

“What’s in the pictures?” He finally asks. A child runs by a little close to them, waving a churro excitedly as her mother chases after her, shouting in French. Taeyong takes a step back, but Johnny doesn’t even move, still staring a little glassy eyed at the cathedral.

“Not much. Just pictures of the back of your head, and one of your profile. Nothing that they could distinguish you from. But I thought I should let you know.”

Taeyong nods. “Who told you this?”

Johnny shrugs. “I have friends in good places. You give anyone two shots of absinthe and they’ll tell you their bank info.”

Taeyong hums in lieu of a response, finally looking down from the church, the back of his neck aching a little from leaning so far back.

“Sorry about Jeno,” He finally says after a long minute of silence. Johnny jerks suddenly, as though he had completely forgot Taeyong was still there. He takes a drag of the cigarette like he wants to swallow it rather than just smoke it, and holds it in his lungs for longer than necessary.

“Yeah,” Is all he finally replies, the cloud of smoke he exhales making Taeyong’s nose twitch.

Taeyong rubs his neck, staring at the huge doors that were swung open, tourists filing in and out.

“Do you think it’s true that an angel is trapped in there?” He asks, more out loud then as an actual question.

Johnny actually laughs and finally turns to look at him. “It’s not an angel. It’s the Devil.”

“What?”

“The Devil. The tale says that the Devil is trapped under there, and when you’re standing inside you can feel wind currents from beneath the church coming up. They say it’s the Devil trying to escape.”

Taeyong stares at him. Hairs on the back of his neck stand up, skin prickling uncomfortably. He glances at the church again, and suddenly it’s presence makes him uneasy, looming over him and making him feel very small.

“I like the one with the angel better,” He whispers, turning away. Johnny flicks the butt of his cigarette to the ground, shrugging, and walks off without another word.

 

Jaehyun feels like his head is going to implode. He’s been watching the same five minute security footage on loop for the past hour and a half, and has still yet to find anything that could be helpful in their search for this accountant.

He says _their_ loosely, because Doyoung had left early due to his “injury”; Jaehyun didn’t say anything when he left, but he knows he was just pitching a fit about how much it hurt because he wanted to go home and leave the brunt end of this case in Jaehyun’s hand.

Yuta was hunched over his own desk a few feet away, scribbling names and numbers and reviewing everything Jaehyun had already gone over for any mistakes. His eyes were a little bloodshot, and his hair looked greasy, like he hadn’t had time to shower in a few days. Jaehyun would feel bad for him, but the other seemed to like working late, and he could use all the help he could get on this.

“Where was this guy last?” Yuta says suddenly, squinting over his glasses at Jaehyun.

“Uh,” Jaehyun switches to the files they had saved already, grateful he had an excuse to exit out of that god forsaken security footage. “He was in Strasbourg, last we got word of him.”

“It looks like he has a pattern,” Yuta mumbles, half to himself.

“What?”

The other’s chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he stands to bring the pile of papers to Jaehyun’s desk. He squats down so he’s closer to them and uses his pencil to point.

“Look at this. Over the past few months, he’s traveled to America, Italy, Korea. Russia, Taiwan, Ethiopia, Korea. Georgia, Chile, Korea.”

Jaehyun stares at the paper blankly. “What’s your point?”

Yuta rolls his eyes, looking impatient. “Seriously? How did you miss this?” He circles all of the _Korea_ ’s listed on the sheet, and as he does, Jaehyun begins to notice the pattern.

“He always comes back to Korea…” He whispers, and Yuta nods excitedly, suddenly getting to his feet.

“Exactly! And he’s never gone to more than three places without coming back. The last destinations we have on him are,” Yuta begins counting on his fingers, “Manila, Yerevan, and-”

“Strasbourg,” Jaehyun finishes. He can feel his face breaking out into a huge grin, and he jumps to his feet as well. “You’re a fucking genius!”  
Yuta’s eyes sparkle despite the dark circles under his eyes. “I’ll look into flights that came in from Strasbourg or Paris within the last two weeks, and check the passengers and their flight history as well.”

Jaehyun collapses into his chair, cheeks aching from how wide he’s smiling, suddenly feeling giddy with the news that they may actually be able to find this guy.

“Yuta,” He says. “You seriously just saved my life.”

 

Taeyong can spot Jaehyun from across the bar, hanging off the edge of his seat and laughing drunkenly with his friend.

Ten follows his gaze, forehead creasing. “Isn’t that your friend from the hospital?”

Taeyong nods, watching the way Jaehyun throws his head back to take a shot, slapping his friend on the back as the other chokes on the alcohol.

“How do you know him?” Ten asks, and his voice is smooth but Taeyong can tell by the way he avoids looking at anything by staring at the tabletop that his curiosity is spiking and he’s trying too hard to act casual.

Taeyong taps his neck, murmuring, “Yekaterinburg.”

It takes the younger a moment, but then he remembers the hickeys, and his mouth twists as he tries to keep himself from pouting.

“Have you guys seen each other since?”

“No.”

“What’s he like?”

Taeyong puts his chin in his hand, sighing. He looks down at his now empty glass, moving it from side to side so the ice inside slides against the rim. “He’s nice. His apartment is clean. He likes art.”

Ten purses his lips. Taeyong looks up at him, frowning.

“What?”

“Do you really like him?” Ten asks, face unreadable.

Taeyong looks back at Jaehyun. His friend has gotten up to get them more drinks, and now he slumps in his chair, legs open, head hanging over the back. His cheeks are red and he’s smiling stupidly to himself, eyes closed, and Taeyong’s heart does a little leap in his chest.

“Don’t be stupid,” He finally says, getting to his feet, empty glass in hand. “Do you want another drink?”

Ten shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I’m probably just gonna go home. We have that shit at the Gangnam place in the morning, remember?”

Taeyong nods, already getting to his feet and heading towards Jaehyun’s table.

 

Jaehyun kisses just like Taeyong remembers, holds his hand while he fucks him just like he remembers. When the younger falls asleep, Taeyong watches him. His face is peaceful, the picture perfect look of serene, and Taeyong can feel an ugly twist in his stomach as he thinks about how fucked up his life is.

He’s never really wondered what having a normal life would be like. He’s never thought of things like marriage, family, or even what he was leaving behind when he died. Ten did, and when they first met he used to tell Taeyong all of his plans, his dreams and what he wanted to do once he finished his work here.

That was over six years ago, and Ten was still here, and he didn’t talk about his dreams anymore. Taeyong wonders if he just got tired of telling them to someone who didn’t care, or if he’d given up, finally realized that once you start their line of work, you never really finish it.

He thinks back to Jeno, to the way Ten had cried when he’d died, the glassy look in Johnny’s eyes when Taeyong had brought him up. Did Jeno have dreams, like Ten used to?

 _Am I supposed to have dreams?_ Taeyong thinks to himself. He reaches out to stroke Jaehyun’s hair, can’t help but smile when the younger’s nose twitches cutely in his sleep. _Am I supposed to plan for my future?_

He pushes the thought away, sitting up quickly. The moonlight cuts through the blinds sharply, throwing the room into a warped, dim white light that scatters along the walls in streaks. He quietly climbs out the bed, searching with his feet along the floor for his discarded clothes. He finds his shirt and boxers, and is forced to drop to his hands and knees to search for his jeans.

He almost curses out loud when he accidentally hits his hand on something hard. It’s Jaehyun’s suitcase, thrown carelessly on the floor, papers falling out and manila folders strewn along the hardwood. Taeyong rolls his eyes, thinking about how earlier he’d told Ten Jaehyun had a clean apartment. He tries as silently as he can to gather the papers, his eyes finally adjusting to the dark.

As he’s tucking the final papers into the case, he notices a list of city names. He wouldn’t think anything of it, except they all seem familiar. They’re listed by weeks, months, years, different cities every week. He scans the list, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest.

These are his cities. This is where he’s been the past eight years, every city, every country. Almost down to the exact dates, this was a rundown of his life.

He takes a deep, shaky breath. Johnny’s voice rings in his head suddenly, clearly; _Someone is looking for you_.

 _Pictures_ , he thinks to himself. _Johnny said they had pictures._

He scrambles to dump out the suitcases contents again, hands trembling as he searches wildly through the folders and papers for photographs. Finally, he comes across a stack of them, held together with a little paperclip. He has to hold them close to his eyes to make anything out in the almost-darkness, but sure enough, he recognizes the people, and the places. And he’s there, in the background, on the side, in the corner. The back of his head, his profile, his hair poking out behind different people. Wherever he is in each photo is circled with red marker.

 _They think you’re an accountant_ , Johnny had said.

 _We work for the Ministry of Strategy and Finance_ , Jaehyun had told him.

Taeyong tries his hardest not to crumple the photos in his hands, his whole body shaking as he tries to process everything at once.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

 

Jaehyun spends the morning trying not to look like he’s sulking, solely so Doyoung won’t ask him what’s wrong. Everyone else is in a chipper mood from Yuta’s discovery the night before, but all Jaehyun can think about is how this morning he’d woken up to an empty bed once again.

Someone claps him on the back, and he jerks forward, almost throwing himself face first into his computer monitor. Taeil gives him a worried look, pulling his hand away.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

Jaehyun nods quickly, trying not to look like a heartbroken boy scout and instead like the grown ass man he was supposed to be. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

Taeil shifts from one foot to the other, not looking convinced, but he continues. “The NIS is doing a takedown in Gangnam of some gangster at his apartment building. They think there’s up to seven million stashed in his place, and they asked me to send an agent to get the numbers once they’re done raiding it. Would you mind heading over?”

Jaehyun nods, grabbing his coat off his chair. He could definitely use some fresh air, and a chance to clear his head without Doyoung hovering over his shoulder asking what was wrong.

 

He’s staring at his own reflection in the window of the subway car when the doors slide open with a ding, and he’s jostled as people push to get off, and a fresh wave of people shove to get on. In the crowd, he spots a familiar face- Ten, the boy Taeyong knew.

Jaehyun ducks behind a group of business men, trying to hide himself from being seen. He peers over one of the men’s shoulders, keeping an eye on Ten.

The younger boy looks much less happy than he had in the hospital almost two weeks ago. He doesn’t have the cast on his arm anymore, but the fingerless leather gloves he wears makes it impossible for Jaehyun to see if his hand has a scar in it from where he’d- supposedly- sliced it open on a circle saw. He’s wearing a bright yellow shirt, which makes it easy for Jaehyun to spot.

Ten stays on for three stops and, almost ironically, just happens to get off at the same stop Jaehyun needs to. The elder lingers behind him, keeping a safe distance, but following him through the underground, until he follows him up the stairs and the sunlight blinds him momentarily.

When his eyes adjust, Ten has crossed the road, and is weaving through the crowds, face twisted with determination. Jaehyun hurries to catch up, all thoughts of the gangster and his original reason for being sent out from work disappearing from his mind as he keeps his eyes trained on the yellow shirt.

It’s only when Ten reaches his destination- a sketchy looking apartment building on a narrow, local street- that Jaehyun realizes what he’s doing. He stops in his tracks as Ten unlocks the front door and slips inside. Why was he even following him? What business did he have with some boy he’d only met once?

He’s just about to turn on his heel when the front door of the building opens again, and out steps Taeyong.

Stupidly frozen in place, Jaehyun can do nothing but stare until Taeyong is only a few feet away, and happens to look up and spot him. The elder looks stunned for a moment, genuinely surprised to see Jaehyun here. He turns to look at the building, than back at Jaehyun.

“Are you following me?” Taeyong asks in a strangled voice, and it takes on a harsh tone that Jaehyun’s never heard from him.

Jaehyun shakes his head a little too quickly. “No, I swear. I’m here for business. This is a total coincidence.”

Taeyong eyes him suspiciously, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Jaehyun’s chest tightens, worried that he’d upset the elder.

They both startle at the same time when there’s the loud roar of multiple car engines. Black vans are pulling up outside the building, _NSI_ painted on their sides in thick, peeling white paint. Jaehyun’s heart drops to his stomach as they screech to a halt just a few meters away from them.

Taeyong whips around to stare at Jaehyun, eyes huge. “What’s going on?”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, too busy watching the back doors of the van kick open. Dozens of NSI agents in full body armor, wielding huge guns, come crawling out as if someone had disturbed a spider's nest. An agent in regular clothes steps out of the passenger side of one van, and Jaehyun recognizes him as one of the directors of the NSI- Sicheng, a friend of Taeil’s. He shouts something to the agents, and they begin pounding on the front door, preparing a ram to break it down.

Taeyong lurches forward suddenly, intent on getting back to the building, but Jaehyun grabs him by the wrist, pulling him back.

“What’s going on?!” Taeyong repeats, voice louder this time. Sicheng hears it, and turns. He beckons for Jaehyun to come over when he spots him.

Jaehyun squeezes Taeyong’s wrist, trying to convey the severity of the situation with one look.

“Stay here,” He says in a quiet voice. “Please.”

Taeyong opens his mouth to argue, but Jaehyun let’s go of him and hurries over to Sicheng before he can hear what he has to say.

“Hello, sir,” He greets bowing. Sicheng nods at him, turning back to look at the front door, which was now being broken down.

“Taeil sent you, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Once we clear out the building we can start searching for the stashed money,” Sicheng glances curiously over his shoulder at Taeyong, who was watching the agents storm through the front doorway, guns poised to shoot, with a terrified look.  
“Who is that?” Sicheng asks.

“A friend, sir,” Jaehyun answers immediately. “I just happened to run into him on my way over here.”

Sicheng nods again, turning back to the building. “Make sure he doesn’t let out word of what’s happening here. We’re trying to keep this contained.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jaehyun walks slowly back over to Taeyong. Taeyong’s gaze burns a hole into his cheeks as he approaches, and the moment he’s close enough, the elder grabs a handful of his shirt and pulls him close.

“What’s going on?” He repeats, voice quiet and shaking.

Jaehyun shakes his head. “A raid. It’ll be over soon, just a wait a bit.”

“Ten is in there,” Taeyong whispers. His bottom lip trembles as he continues. “Ten is in that building.”

Jaehyun mouth twists into a frown, and he looks down at the ground as he replies, “I know.”

From inside the building, they can hear shouting, and what sounds like glass being shattered. On the third floor, the window is blown to pieces with a gunshot, and suddenly an NSI agent is physically thrown out of it, falling to his death just a few feet away from them.

Sicheng shouts something into his walkie talkie. The agents still outside the building get into stance, guns pointed at the front doorway just in case.

There are more gunshots, and with each one, Jaehyun can feel the older man beside him tense up more and more, until he’s clutching Jaehyun’s shirt so tightly it feels like it’s being tugged off his body. Taeyong’s eyes are glassy as he watches the building, the only visible emotion on his face. Otherwise, he looks expressionless.

Another window shatters on the fifth floor from a gunshot. Someone is thrown out of it again, but this time there’s two of them, an agent and someone dressed in regular clothes.

Jaehyun can feel the way Taeyong flinches when the bodies hit the ground. Sicheng orders the remaining agents to storm the building, and over his shouting, Jaehyun recognizes the yellow shirt of the non-agent’s body.

Taeyong let’s out a noise between a gasp and a sob, pitching forward to run towards the bodies. Jaehyun stumbles after him, shouting, “Taeyong, no!”

He manages to stop him before he’s even halfway to them, but they’re much closer now, and even with his arms wrapped around Taeyong’s waist, he can recognize Ten’s body over the elder’s shoulder.

“What did you do!?” Taeyong is sobbing, big tears rolling down his cheeks. He kicks wildly, trying to escape Jaehyun’s hold. “What did you fucking do!?”

Jaehyun glances over his shoulder at Sicheng, who hadn’t noticed the commotion Taeyong was making yet. He tries to pull Taeyong away, but as he does, Ten let’s out a wheeze, coughing weakly, and Taeyong almost tears Jaehyun’s arms off breaking free.

He skids to a stop and drops to his knees beside Ten, hands patting along the younger’s body. The blood welling up beneath his shirt on his lower abdomen indicates he was shot, and the blood pooling under his head is obvious proof that he’d cracked his skull from the drop.

“Chittaphon, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Taeyong gasps out. Ten’s eyelids flutter, and other than the very weak rising of his chest, he doesn’t move at all. His lips part as though he wants to say something, but all that comes out are little droplets of blood, oozing down his lips.

Taeyong cries so hard it looks like he’s having trouble breathing evenly, grabbing at Ten’s face to cup it in his hands. “You’re fine, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Ten’s hand twitches just the slightest, and Taeyong notices immediately, interlocking their fingers and squeezing the younger's hand. With one last, deep death rattle, Ten’s head lolls to the side, mouth still dripping blood, eyes flickering shut.

Taeyong gasps hysterically around sobs, slapping Ten on the cheek lightly, calling out to him.

“Chittaphon,” He repeats, over and over. “Chittaphon. Chittaphon.”

The name rings in Jaehyun’s head, and briefly, he realizes that must be Ten’s real name. He wonders if Taeyong had always called him that when it was just them, or if, only in death, it came out naturally like a prayer.

 

“I found him,” Yuta announces, dropping down into the seat beside Jaehyun.

Jaehyun looks up from his computer, pushing his glasses onto his head and rubbing his eyes warily. “Found who?”

Yuta raps on his desktop loudly, waving the papers in his hand in the elder’s face. “The accountant.”

Jaehyun frowns. It had been almost a month since Yuta had discovered the pattern of cities, and if he were being honest, Jaehyun had almost completely forgotten about the man. After the raid in Gangnam, Taeyong had disappeared, and he’d thrown himself into his work, taking on any case he could to distract himself. Doyoung had noticed his change in personality, and had taken the folders of the accountants case off his desk when he was in the bathroom one day, so Jaehyun had just assumed they’d solved it without him and he was no longer needed.

Yuta slaps the papers down before Jaehyun, grinning triumphantly. “It took me, like, three weeks, but I finally found the passenger from France who had come from Armenia. And then I looked into their travel history, and tracked the past five years of cities they’ve been to, which matched up perfectly with our list on him.”

Jaehyun stares down at the papers. A familiar face stares back, this time a clear passport style photo of the man. It’s Taeyong, smiling gently up at him, his name and information printed in neat handwriting beside the picture.

“He’s fled the country, though,” Yuta explains. “We think he’s somewhere in China right now, but the NSI thinks he wasn’t actually involved in any of the monetary issues of our targets, more in the actual crimes, which means it’s not a case our department need to worry about, anymore. But still,” He looks proudly at Jaehyun, waiting for praise. “I found him.”

Jaehyun nods slowly, still staring at the photograph.

 

When Jaehyun returns home, there’s an extremely large package waiting for him at his front door. He struggles bringing it inside, finally tossing it on his bed sheets and staring down at the return address.

It reads Xi'an, China, with no name or specific building address. Simply the city and zip code.

He tears at the thick brown paper wrapping with his bare hands. It’s a painting, huge and framed in an old, golden ornate frame. The painting itself was covered with a thin black sheet, taped loosely to the edges. Jaehyun frowns at it once it’s fully unwrapped, confused.

He peels off the tape gently, pulling the sheet back, and almost drops to his knees.

Dante and Virgil stare back at him, watching two damned souls claw at each other. A demon floats above them, leering, terrifying in itself. Jaehyun reaches out to touch the painting, heart skipping a beat at the texture, the bumps of dry paint along the surface.

In the very right hand corner, he spots the little signature in red ink. _WBouguereau, 1850._ Just beside it, in a fresh red lipstick that Jaehyun almost immediately recognizes, is a small kiss stain.

**Author's Note:**

> [ this is the painting that taeyong gave jaehyun!](http://r.hswstatic.com/w_907/gif/stufftoblowyourmind-23-2014-07-danteandvirgilinhell-full.jpg) yes, it is a real painting.  
>  thanks to teesta (@batman) for telling me about the strasbourg cathedral legend while we were standing outside the cathedral. i will never look at it the same again.


End file.
